


A Study In Recuperation

by Small_Hobbit



Series: After the War is Over [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: First World War, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: In the late spring of 1918 Dr John Watson is reasigned to a home for the recuperation of wounded officers.  There he meets two of his former companions and helps them as they start the process of recuperation.





	1. A New Posting

**Author's Note:**

> My very grateful thanks to SCFrankles for all the beta-ing she has done. And to all those who have encouraged me with writing this.

**Prologue:  11 November 1921**

The three men stood silently before the war memorial.  Holmes, bearing the results of his activities, still classified, leaned heavily on his stick.  Watson’s face was etched with the horrors he had seen even behind the battle lines.  Only Hopkins appeared unscathed, until Holmes took him by the arm to lead him gently away; he had been blinded in action.

 

**Chapter 1:  A New Posting**

It was in the late spring of 1918 when I was sent to assist at a home for the recuperation of officers on the South Downs.  By that time in the war I felt I was the one who could do with a chance to recuperate, and indeed I could have resigned, saying my age was precluding me from continuing to serve, but I knew how desperately short-staffed the medical services were, and while I could still stand on my feet I was determined to play my part.  I suspected Mycroft Holmes had had a hand in my reallocation for it turned out this was, so far as is possible in such circumstances, a comfortable post.  There were other reasons too why I saw his hand at work.

I arrived in the early evening and was shown to my room, which was small, but provided the true luxury of being for me alone.  In my last posting I had shared a room with another doctor and it was not unknown to return to find one of my colleagues asleep in my bed, too exhausted to make the journey to their own lodgings.  In those circumstances I would prod them until they took the blankets and slept on the floor.  I would then sleep on the bed under my coat.  A younger man might have resigned himself to sleeping on the floor, but such days are well past for me.

The morning after my arrival, I was conducted around the home and had my duties explained to me.  They were much lighter than I had been used to, for which I was grateful.  Of course, should an emergency occur, I would do all I could to assist, but otherwise I did not see the requirements as being too taxing.

After lunch I was told an old friend of mine was currently a patient.  I was surprised, since I was not aware of any of my long-time acquaintances being in the home.  Certainly, all the patients I had seen so far were men at least twenty years younger than I – hardly surprising for these were men who had been serving on the front line. 

I was led by a nurse down a corridor I had not been shown in the morning.  Instead of wards of eight to ten men these appeared to be individual rooms.  I had expressed surprise at the small size of the wards and had been told these were dictated by the structure of the house.  The sister gave the impression she believed the architect had designed it with the sole purpose of inconveniencing her.

The nurse knocked quietly on one of the doors and then showed me in.  Inside I saw a thin man sitting on a chair and staring fixedly out of the window. 

At first, I could not understand why I had been taken to see this particular patient.  He was painfully thin, and had clearly suffered considerable physical deprivation to have left him in this condition.  His hands were in his lap, the dark veins standing out against the pale skin, which looked cracked and worn.  I wondered what had brought the man to this physical state and indeed, what his mental state must be that he was apparently isolated from his fellow patients.

I took a step nearer, and something about the angle of the head and the poise of the body, like that of a bird of prey, alert for every movement in the undergrowth, stirred vague memories.  I looked more closely.  We had not seen each other for three years, and then had only shared brief encounters, and indeed he had changed more in those years than I would have expected, but when you have lived with someone for a significant part of your life, recognition is still possible.

“Holmes,” I exclaimed. 

To see him alive, even though in poor physical health, was something I had come to doubt I would ever do again.

He turned at the sound of my voice, but made no other response.  My heart plummeted.  Had something so traumatised him he no longer recognised me?

“He does not speak,” the nurse said.

“May I stay?” I asked.  “I am not due to be anywhere else at the moment.”

“Of course,” she replied.  Turning to Holmes she said, “I shall be back later, Mr Holmes.”

I sat on the bed and regarded my old friend.  It occurred to me I could have followed the nurse and asked her for further details, but it was unlikely, even if she knew anything, that she would share such matters with me, since that would be a doctor’s role.

I soon became aware Holmes was inspecting me.  I sat quietly, careful not to make any sudden movements which might startle him.  His behaviour did not resemble that of those I had previously met who had shell-shock, but I reasoned I could not go too far wrong if I remained still and calm.  Fleetingly I wondered whether his actions might have been adopted for a case, but even for Holmes that seemed extreme, so I decided I would continue to respond on the assumption the ailment was genuine.  I could see no outward sign of physical injury which might prevent speech, and at this stage a full examination did not seem appropriate.

Finally, apparently satisfied, Holmes smiled and held out his hand.  I took it and shook it warmly.

I wondered how to proceed and said tentatively, “Would you like to hear something of what I’ve been doing these past months?”

He gave a small nod and I could see a slight spark in his eyes.  I did not bore him with my day to day activities, but instead described some of the characters I had met and some of the little mysteries which had occurred.  It was almost like the old times, for I could tell from the twitches in his face when he wished to know more, and when he thought I was exaggerating.  Too soon I realised I would have to leave and I stood up, explaining I had work to do.  He looked up and raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said, and was pleased to see him smile in acknowledgement.

***

I made my way to where the main wards were.  I was on the roster to do the evening ward round and having met the nurse who would accompany me I set off at speed, glancing at the patients in the beds on either side as I hurried to the end of the ward.

The nurse called out, “Doctor Watson, please slow down.”

I turned in surprise, my days of outpacing a nurse being well past. 

“If you are happy for me to sign off the patients on your behalf, doctor, I will do so,” she said, “but please give me time to complete the charts.”

I stopped and returned to the beginning of the ward.  “I am so sorry,” I said.  “I have not yet become accustomed to the procedures here.”  I smiled sadly.  “Where I have come from, there was only time to stop for those who needed urgent assistance.”

She nodded, although I am not sure she believed I wished to change my behaviour. 

I picked up the first chart, “So, let us begin again.  Captain Hawkins, your notes state your wounds are mending nicely, but you continue to find having them dressed somewhat distressing.  I realise this is reminding you of the circumstances in which you sustained your injuries, but may I suggest you try to think of what you will be able to do once they have healed sufficiently for you to go outside.”

We continued in this vein.  At one point I whispered to the nurse that she let me know if I was taking too long in my round, for I did not wish to fall foul of the matron at this stage.  She assured me she would do so, and added that Matron cared for her patients; she just wasn’t as fond of the doctors and nurses.

I was coming to the end of my round, and I was aware of the sounds of supper approaching.  This was the point at which I needed to have finished, but, with only had one more ward to visit, I was confident I would still have time to see all my patients.

 I picked up the chart at the first bed and glanced at the name – Captain Stanley Hopkins.  Seeing the name gave me a start, as did seeing the man lying in the bed, his eyes bandaged.  It was hard to reconcile the enthusiastic police inspector we had welcomed into 221B, with the person in front of me, so pale and quiet.  There had been times in the past year when I saw patients whose wounds have turned my stomach, and yet I have managed to remain professional.  But the sight of a former friend with such life-changing injuries almost reduced me to unprofessional tears.  I forced myself to control my emotions and spoke briefly to him.  He did not seem to recognise my voice, which was hardly surprising; he would not have expected me to be standing by his bedside.

After I had finished my round I spoke to the matron.  “Is there any hope Captain Hopkins will recover his sight?”

“None whatsoever.  He is completely blind.”

“Then, can the bandages be removed?”

“He becomes distressed when they are taken off. “

“But even so, if he does not need them …”

“He is much calmer when they are in place.  We therefore replace them once his face has been washed.”

As the doctor, I could overrule her, but I did not feel this would be helpful.  So I said instead, “I have some free hours tomorrow morning, would you object if I were to talk to your patient and see if we can make some progress in this matter?”

“You are the doctor, sir, you may do as you see fit.  However, if you can tell me the time you will be coming I will prepare him for your visit.  He finds it difficult when people appear at his bedside unexpectedly and can get agitated if he has not been forewarned.”

“Thank you, Matron.  Shall we say half past ten?”

“Certainly, doctor.”

I wished her good night and went in search of my own supper.  After supper I returned to my room and turned over in my mind the events of the day.  I still found it hard to reconcile the Holmes in the hospital room with the man I had known so well.  It was not so much the physical change which had befallen him, although that was worrying enough, but the change in the inner man.  It was true, there had been glimpses of the Holmes I had known, but the ease in his manner had been replaced by something very distant and circumspect.

I thought too of Hopkins, and permitted myself a few tears in the privacy of my own room.  Holmes and I were both old men, coming towards the end of our natural lives, war or no war, but Hopkins, like so many others, should have had many years before him, and now he was lying still and sightless in a hospital bed.  

Looking back I suppose I should have registered greater surprise at meeting two of my old companions on the same afternoon, but by that stage in the war I think many of us just accepted whatever fate threw our way, without questioning it too much.

***

I ensured I was at the entrance to Hopkins’ ward promptly at half past ten the following morning.  Matron nodded to me and accompanied me to his bed.

“Captain Hopkins, this is the doctor I told you would be coming to talk to you,” she said.

Then turning to me she added, “You may go outdoors, but the captain is to be back in the ward and ready for his dinner by midday.”

I placed a hand on his arm and said, “Would you like to go outside?  The sun is out and I gather there are some suitable benches we can sit on.”

I had wondered whether he would now recognise my voice, but he gave no indication he had.  I thought it would be better to delay telling him who I was until we were alone together and so was hopeful he would agree to go out.

“Thank you,” he answered quietly.  “Matron said we might be able to go out.  She has put a dressing gown on the bottom of the bed.”

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling with his feet for his slippers.  Carefully I moved them so they touched his feet.  He put them on and then stood up.

“I have your dressing gown,” I said.

He held out an arm and I helped him into it.  I heard one of the nurses tutting and realised I was supposed to let Hopkins find the dressing gown and put it on himself. 

I gave her an apologetic look and made a mental note for the next occasion.

Hopkins took my arm and I guided him down the ward and towards the outside door.  At first he seemed quite confident and then he started to slow down.  I guessed this was because he was no longer as sure of the way.  I made a point of describing the doorway and the step we had to cross and ensured we moved at his pace, rather than my own.

Once outside I saw the nearest bench and turned us towards it.  We made our way slowly along the path.  I still found it difficult to reconcile the enthusiastic police inspector who would stride ahead of us, with the man gripping my arm and doing little more than shuffle forward.  We reached the seat and I encouraged Hopkins to sit down.

I did not believe it would be right to continue withholding from him who I was.  He would find out soon enough and I would much rather he learnt the truth from me, rather than someone else.  Accordingly, I began rather hesitantly to say, “Captain Hopkins, I am Dr John Watson, who you used to know …”

I got no further before he exclaimed, “Dr Watson, is it truly you?  Matron mentioned your name to me this morning, but I had convinced myself it was another Dr Watson.  I am so pleased to …”

He halted abruptly, it being only too obvious he had been about to say “see you.”

I grasped his hand and shook it warmly, hoping to show by touch my sentiments at seeing him.  Indeed, I was not sure I could trust myself to speak and was to that extent relieved his condition meant he could not see the tears which were running down my face.

We sat in silence for a few minutes and then Hopkins said, “I thought I recognised your voice last night, but I had heard it so often in my …”

Again he paused, this time searching for the right word.  I understood – nightmare seemed too tame a word for the brain’s activities following traumatic injury.

“Shall we just say ‘head’?” I suggested.

“Yes,” he replied, and seemed to relax a little.  “I am sure you can understand.”

“Only too well, my dear fellow.”  I thought it best not to ask anything too probing at this stage and settled on the conversational, “Have you been here long?”

“Only a few days.  I was expecting to be sent to a hospital specifically for the blind, but ended up here in a general convalescent home.”

_Mycroft_ , I thought, though I said nothing.

Then I realised he had not seemed particularly upset at the knowledge he was going to a hospital for the blind and decided to risk my next question.

“You know you are permanently blind?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said softly.  “Even though I’m still getting used to the idea.  It’s strange, because at the same time in some way I knew immediately I would never see again.”

I had to ask, “But the bandage?”

“Yes, they’ve been very good to me here.  Far kinder than I suspect the nurses in the other hospital would have been.”  He paused, searching for the right words.  “With the bandage on I find I can accept my situation.  When it’s removed I try hard to see, because it’s so very important that I do so.”

He began to shake and I hastened to take his hand.  I stood up and placed myself between him and the sun.  I wasn’t sure whether he could still tell light from darkness, but he would certainly notice the coolness on his face as I blocked the sunlight.

“It’s all right,” I said.  “I’m here.  You’re quite safe.”

Slowly his breathing returned to normal.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “That was not behaviour becoming of an officer.”

“My dear Hopkins,” I replied.  “If the last three years have taught me nothing else, it’s that there is little point treating the physical injury when the mental one is just as bad.  There will come a time when your bandages can be removed and you will no longer be straining to see.  And I shall do my bit to bring this about.”

I helped him back to the ward and left him to the ministrations of a cheerful nurse, who said, “Right, Captain Hopkins.  Let’s go and wash your hands and see if we can splash a little less water than yesterday.”

I went in search of Matron, but learnt she had been called to another patient who had taken a turn for the worse.  Seeing the Padre enter the side ward, I left a message to say I would speak to her later.

***

On my way for my own dinner I was told there was post for me.  When I collected it I recognised the handwriting on the envelope as Mycroft’s and therefore put the letter in my pocket to read later.  The conversation during the meal was enlightening.  I learnt the hospital not only provided treatment, but aimed to begin the process of rehabilitation of the patients.  This was very encouraging to me, for my previous posting had primarily concentrated on little more than prevention of the deterioration of the patient, and, as can be imagined, even this was not always achieved.

Once I had eaten I returned to my room to read my letter.  It was less than a page in length, and from the way the words practically ran into each other, written in haste.  One did not need to be a member of the Holmes family to spot how Mycroft’s meticulous handwriting had changed since the beginning of the war.  Indeed, I suspected the current misfortune regarding his brother had placed an even greater strain on the man.  Were I his doctor, I would have been concerned regarding Mycroft’s own health.

_My Dear Watson,_

_I am delighted you have accepted your reallocation.  I admit to playing a part in it, for I am sure you would not believe me were I to deny it.  Even if I did not have a personal reason for wishing you there, I am confident it will prove an ideal post for you._

_I imagine you will have many questions about my brother’s situation.  I can at least assure you his malaise is genuine.  He has been examined by the best practitioners, who cannot provide any physical reason for his lack of speech, but to date no-one has been able to explain the cause.  Indeed, he seems to become distressed when in the presence of strangers for long, so it has been impossible to ascertain any of the facts._

_He initially stayed with me in London upon his return.  He would sit with me of an evening, but if another were to call he would instantly retreat to his own room.  On two occasions, when a previous acquaintance tried to persuade him to stay he almost reacted with violence.  However he did not seem upset by the presence of either my housekeeper or the part-time nurse I employed to assist him.  He also posed no threat to me, so I am confident he will accept you._

_I arranged for Sherlock to be sent to the nursing home, where the quiet of the countryside may help to quiet the spirit within him.  If no more can be done for him, as soon as the war ends I will myself retire to the nearby country, where he will be able to live with me in comparative peace.  To such ends I have already begun to make enquiries about a suitable property._

_In the meantime, since my presence in London remains of a level of importance, I hope you will be able to provide some assistance, or at least a familiar face in what must have become a very frightening world in my brother’s mind._

_And in case you are wondering, it is no coincidence Captain Hopkins is also there.  He, too, is in need of a friendly voice, and I am sure you will not begrudge him one._

_Cordially_

_Mycroft Holmes_

I read the letter through twice and then put it in the drawer.  It gave me little further explanation of Holmes’ condition, although I was relieved to know Mycroft too had considered the possibility of some subterfuge, before ruling it out.  As for the final paragraph, I was already intending to provide Hopkins with a friendly voice and accordingly set out to call on the Matron before I went to see Holmes.

When I arrived, Matron was sitting in her office, glaring at something one of the doctors had written.  I was not sure whether it was the handwriting or the content which was annoying her; probably both.  I coughed to announce my arrival and she looked up briefly.  “Dr Watson, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to work with Captain Hopkins to enable him to remove his eye bandages without any distress,” I began.  “I have time to myself in the mornings, which I thought I could make use of.”

She transferred her glare from her paperwork to me.  “Dr Watson, we are under instruction to have helped all the patients in that ward to dress themselves in time for dinner.  This morning I deemed it more important Captain Hopkins have the opportunity to spend the time with you.  I do not have sufficient nursing staff to ensure he is ready in time for you each morning, nor do I think it right for my nurses to single him out for special attention.”

I was rather taken aback by her response, although I could understand her position.  “Maybe I could assist in some way,” I said hesitantly.  I have known doctors issue counter-demands of matrons in the past, I have never known it to end well.

“Of course, if you wish to assist the Captain in getting himself dressed, this would be quite acceptable, and would relieve my staff slightly at the same time.”

I felt somewhat uncertain.  “I am not sure I would know how to do so.”

She looked me up and down critically.  “Well, doctor, you appear to have managed to dress yourself correctly this morning.  I cannot see why you should have any problems.”

A younger man might have blushed.  I merely shrugged my shoulders and acknowledged the correctness of her observation.  “I am afraid I may not be able to come much before half past ten, as I have agreed to assist in two of the other wards earlier in the morning.”

“Yes, I understand you will be working with some of our amputees whose wounds are failing to heal as they should.”

My suspicions were that in some of the cases the patient himself was in some way responsible for aggravating the wound.  I was hoping that by talking to the patients I might be able to assist their mental state and thus their physical state.  I did not intend to say anything of that nature to Matron, so instead said, “I believe I may have some experiences which will be of assistance.”

I could see from her expression she understood without my needing to say anything more.  Instead she said, “I shall tell Captain Hopkins to expect you after half past ten, and that you have volunteered to help him to dress.”

The smile she gave me as I departed did much to boost my own mental state.  Here was someone who did indeed care greatly for her patients and would not stand in the way of those who were also seeking to help them.


	2. Establishing A Routine

I admit to experiencing mixed feelings as I walked down the corridor to see Holmes again.  Mycroft’s letter had provided me with some slight background information as to Holmes’ behaviour prior to his arrival at the nursing home.  However, I suspected Mycroft knew considerably more than he was saying regarding his brother’s experiences before he returned to London.  Of course, much of that would be classified information and, even if I were permitted to know something of what he had been through, it would never have been committed to writing.

I had intended to read Holmes’ current medical notes, but my discussion with the matron had taken longer than I had expected and I did not want to delay my arrival at Holmes’ room.  In the past he had disliked clients who had kept him waiting, and although I did not know how much he had changed over the last four years, I thought it best to assume certain characteristics remained.

I spoke to the nurse who was sitting at the desk at one end of the corridor and she told me to knock on Holmes’ door and then go in.  I did as instructed and found Holmes in a similar attitude to that which he’d had the day before.

However, this time, as soon as he saw it was me, he stood up and walked across the room to shake my hand warmly.

We sat down.  The room was quite close and I could see Holmes looking out of the window almost wistfully.

“Would you like to take a turn outside?” I asked.

Holmes stood up and I thought I glimpsed something of the old spark in his eye, before he sat down again, fear evident on his face.

“I will be with you, all the way,” I said.  “You know I’ve never deserted you when you had need of me.”

“Watson,” he croaked.

My heart leapt as he spoke my name, but I quickly schooled my features.  I knew it was important I did not show there was anything out of the ordinary.  Instead, I passed him his coat, which was hanging on the back of the door, and taking my arm, we left his room.

The nurse caught sight of me as we turned towards the outside door and nodded, so I assumed there was no problem in our going outside.

For the second time that day I found myself walking outside with an old friend hanging onto my arm.  This time, however, felt rather more unnerving.

It is true Hopkins had gripped my arm quite firmly.  He had obviously been unsure where we were going and I suspected he had had little opportunity to walk outside and certainly not on a grassy lawn.  He needed to hold my arm to prevent his falling.  In addition, I had the sense he was frightened if he let go of me he would be alone and unable to return; a fear which I could understand.

It was different with Holmes.  There was still the fear there, but also Holmes was constantly on edge.  The slightest sound, or the movement of a tree branch when a bird landed on it, and he tightened his grip on my arm. 

We managed a turn of the small lawn at the back of the building, but by the end I was feeling almost as tense as Holmes.  I had adopted a stance a little like St George about to confront the dragon, to convince Holmes, as far as possible, he was safe with me.  Unfortunately, by making a conscious effort to walk deliberately and firmly, I had made my leg ache quite badly, so I suggested we return to Holmes’ room.

We made it back, and I assisted Holmes off with his coat and hung it up.  I had my back to him, so I almost missed the whispered “thank you”.

I stayed a little while longer.  At first I was not sure what to talk about, but in the end I decided to describe some of the new vehicles I had seen.  I am not sure he was particularly interested, but he seemed happy to listen to me.  I left when it was time for me to go to my ward rounds.

***

As I walked to the first of my wards I was joined by one of the other doctors.

“I hear you took Mr Holmes outside,” he began.

“Yes,” I replied.  “We went for a short walk around the back lawn.”

“That is considerably more than he has done to date.  Until now, he has not left his room except for necessary trips to the bathroom.  In the circumstances, will you be wishing to take over responsibility for Mr Holmes’ medical care?”

I considered the question.  Whilst I would be delighted to assist my old friend in any way possible, I knew I did not have sufficient experience in mental illnesses to provide proper treatment.  I was happy to give support to those for whom I could discern a clear link between injury and mental distress, but the more complicated cases were well beyond my capabilities.  Mycroft’s letter had asked merely that I provide basic assistance, such as any friend who give; not for me to take over the responsibility for his brother’s care.

Accordingly, I said, “I would like to be able to continue visiting Holmes on a daily basis, but I was not expecting to be in charge of his care.  Obviously, if there is anything you believe I can do to assist, then please let me know.”

The other man nodded.  “Of course.  I have hopes Mr Holmes will begin talking again within a week.  I shall keep you informed of my progress.”

With that he walked away.  I was not very surprised at his behaviour; I had met doctors like him before.  I had been on the point of mentioning Holmes speaking my name, but clearly the doctor had not been interested in anything I might have had to say.  As soon as he had established I had no intention of taking his patient, he had decided I was of little importance.  It was clear he saw Holmes more as an interesting case than as a man in need of help; I felt no obligation to assist his case study.

I suspect I had taken longer than I should to reach the wards for my evening round, for I found the nurse waiting for me.  My head was still full of Holmes, his problems and any possible treatment or solution.  I was tempted to ask for a delay in the start of my round, to give myself a little longer to think, and knowing many of the patients required nothing more than the care they were already receiving.  However, I thought of Matron looking firmly at me and reminding me there was more than one patient in my care.  I could hear her in my head, saying “Get a move on, Doctor” (not words she would actually use, of course, but she would think them). 

I therefore applied myself to the patients before me and we began the round.  I was pleased to notice Captain Hawkins was already starting to make better progress after my words of the previous day.  When I spoke to him he told me his wife was planning on visiting at the weekend and he hoped he might well enough to go outside with her when she came.  She had visited him before and I was able to tell him I was sure she would be surprised at the progress he had made. 

Here was one man I did not think would need my particular assistance, although I made a mental note to regularly check on his progress. 

There were a couple of new admissions and I spent time talking with them.  Or to be more truthful, I talked with one of them, a Lieutenant Worth, who was happy to discuss his injury and the progress he expected to be making in the next few days.  The other was considerably less forthcoming.  Lieutenant Brown spoke in barely above a whisper and using as few words as possible.  Worth chided him, telling him to speak up when the doctor asked him a question.  I called the ward sister over, and instructed her sufficiently clearly I could be heard by both patients, that Brown needed peace and quiet overnight and I would come and see him again in the morning.

I had nearly finished my round when the sister on one of the other wards came over to me. 

“I understand you have a list of patients you will be seeing tomorrow morning,” she began.

“That is correct,” I replied.  “I don’t think any of yours are on my list.”  I had selected five patients who I felt I could most profitably spend time with. 

 “No, they’re not,” she replied, “but I wondered if you could perhaps include one.”

I glanced up at the clock.  “I have almost finished here,” I said.  “I could come and see you in a few minutes.”

The sister thanked me and departed.  Once I had signed off my final charts, I was pointed in the right direction.  The sister saw me arrive and came over.  I enquired of her which patient she wished to treat, expecting her to take me to him. 

Instead, she said quietly, “Captain Truman is in the bed nearest us.  I would appreciate it if you could just observe him from here.  As you can see, he has lost three fingers from his right hand, but he has no other physical injury.”

I stood next to the sister and watched Truman.  It soon became apparent why she had asked me to look at him.  As might be expected his right hand was bandaged.  Most patients in that situation would avoid using the hand as far as possible and would be careful how they moved it.  Truman seemed almost negligent and I saw him bang the hand twice in the few minutes I watched him.

“Would it not be better to put his arm in a sling?” I asked.

“We have tried that, but he undoes the sling almost as quickly as we can tie it,” she replied.

“I will happily come and talk to him tomorrow, but I am not sure I can be of help.”

“Thank you, doctor, I would appreciate it.”

She seemed slightly reticent, so I asked, “Can I help in any other way?”

“No, no.  That will be quite sufficient.”  She paused, as if considering her words.  “I just wanted someone to talk to him.”

Holmes used to say one could learn as much by what was not said, as what was said.  It seemed a reasonable deduction the sister had already questioned Captain Truman’s behaviour with another doctor and been told there was nothing wrong with it.  She had not been satisfied, suspecting there to be a deeper problem, and had sought a second opinion to either confirm or allay her fears.

I smiled at her and said, “It will be my pleasure.”

***

I joined my fellow doctors for the evening meal, and afterwards was invited to play cards with them.  I declined the offer, pleading correspondence I wished to catch up.  The evening was a pleasant one and I decided to go for a stroll before returning to my room.

I walked down the lane which led to the home.  If one were to only consider the way nature was starting to bloom one would be forgiven for believing there were no troubles in the world.  The hedgerows were full of wild flowers and as I walked I came across a patch of bluebells.  It was easy to imagine a young man picking them for his sweetheart.

But then, all of a sudden, I saw in my mind’s eye a young man in khaki marching off to war, with his sweetheart waving farewell.  And months, or even less, later, the same young woman in mourning, for whom the patch of bluebells would forever remind her of the one she had lost. 

My mind raced on, picturing those I had sought to help, those who had died, those for whom the return home would place nothing but a burden on their families.  I could feel myself starting to shake, as my breathing sped up.

Suddenly I became aware of footsteps behind me.  I whirled round, expecting to be called back to a ward, to deal with another emergency.

It was the matron, who stopped and said, “I am sorry if I startled you, Dr Watson.”

“No, no, not at all,” I stammered.

“I see, like me, you were enjoying a quiet walk.  I often step out here of an evening.  I find it calms my mind to get away for a few minutes.”

I started, for my mind had become anything but calm.

“But, of course, it is important not to bring one’s concerns with one,” she added.  “I generally take a turn to the right here.  There is a small duck pond two or three minutes walk further along.  I walk around it and then head back.  Perhaps we could walk together – I promise not to engage you in conversation.”

“Thank you,” I said.

It was pleasant walking with her.  She looked around as we walked and I could tell she was noticing all we passed, comparing the trees and flowers to how they had looked last time she had come this way.  She was a woman who had many cares and concerns and yet consciously left them behind for this quarter of an hour.  Her presence helped calm my mind too, and I was able to return to my room feeling refreshed.

I wrote a brief note to Mycroft, telling him I had seen his brother and would continue to visit him in the afternoons.  I mentioned we had taken a short walk.  I debated saying Sherlock had spoken a couple of words to me, but decided against it.  It was unlikely Mycroft could construe much from the few words, and on my part, I wished to either tell him there were definite signs of progress, or let him know the odd word was all which could be expected.  In addition I said I had met Hopkins and concluded by saying how much I had felt the east wind in the last day.  I knew he would understand this comment.

I ensured I reached the wards promptly the following morning.  When I had only five patients to see I had calculated this would leave me sufficient time to meet with Hopkins at half past ten, but with two additional patients I would be running much closer to the time, since I needed to spend a reasonable amount of time with each of them. 

Fortunately for me, the first two I had selected to see had difficulties for which a short conversation helped find a possible solution.  The first was a lieutenant who appeared particularly clumsy, but on discovering he was left-handed (a fact I quickly informed the nursing staff about) I was able to make some suggestions as to alternate ways for him to do things.

The second was a major with a number of serious injuries.  Again, he seemed to be quite careless, banging his injured arm on objects.  I watched his movements and he seemed surprised when he did so; it certainly did not seem a deliberate act.  I continued to watch him, whilst we talked.  I raised my hands to demonstrate something and in doing so had occasion to watch his eyes.  It suddenly occurred to me his vision might be restricted.  I performed a few basic tests, which he happily co-operated with, before telling the sister of my observations.  She agreed to arrange for an eye test, as well as instructing her staff to take the major’s possible limited vision into account.  The major himself seemed resigned to one more area of disability, and merely remarked he would have to take greater care when playing cards in future.

I spent longer with the next three patients.  All three of them, in different ways, were still suffering mentally from the effects of combat.  The tenseness, the nervousness, and in one case the insistent picking at his bandages, were all signs I was familiar with, from my previous posting.  What saddened me was the evidence they did not seem to have made much improvement since their arrival.  We had thought, when dealing with patients who had only just been repatriated from the front, a few days rest and they would be much as their old selves.  Maybe it was more a wish than a strong conviction, for these men gave the lie to such hopes.

I did what I could.  I suggested the men be encouraged to go outside, where the fresh air and the sights of spring might raise their spirits.  But with a limited number of staff it was not easy to persuade men who were frightened to leave their beds to go.  I promised to return the next day and reminded myself such ailments should not be expected to be alleviated with a few minutes’ talk.

I then went to see Lieutenant Brown, my new patient from the day before.  I was pleased to see he recognised me, although he admitted having forgotten my name.  I was not surprised, since returning to England he would have seen a number of doctors, and the likelihood of seeing any of them twice was remote.  I enquired as to how well he had spent the night, to which he replied it had been passable, and that he had been able to get some sleep.  This was all I could reasonably hope for.  Very few of the men were able to sleep for a whole night without at least some nightmares, unless they had been given strong painkillers.

Brown then asked me where he was, and how long he could expect to be with us.  At first I was slightly alarmed at this, but he must have read my expression, because he explained he had spent what he estimated to be the past week being moved from place to place and he had lost track of his location.  He had been unsure whether this was yet another temporary stop or whether he had finally reached a permanent destination.

Overall, he seemed much more positive than the previous evening, so I recommended he spend a quiet day and if possible get some more sleep.  He seemed quite happy when I said I would see him again in the afternoon.

My last call was on Captain Truman.  I was disturbed to see the bandages on his hand had evidence of fresh blood.  I took a chair and sat beside him, but as soon as I began to talk to him, he very deliberately began banging his hand on the metal bed frame, which caused further blood to soak into the bandages.  I remonstrated with him, trying to get him to stop.  Fortunately, an orderly came over and between us we managed to restrain him.  The sister joined us and said she could manage to replace the bandages.  I told her to then place the captain’s hand in a splint, which would hopefully prevent him causing it any further damage.  I have to admit to being rather downcast after this visit, since my presence had clearly exacerbated the situation, rather than alleviating it.

There was no time, however, to dwell on this, for I was due with Hopkins at half past the hour and there remained only a few minutes to go.  I hurried to meet him, but remembered to slow my footsteps as I approached his bed, so as not to alarm him.

“Good morning, Hopkins,” I said as I reached him.

“Good morning, Doctor,” Hopkins replied.  He was sitting on the bed, clearly waiting for me.  “I understand you will be helping me to dress this morning.  This is very kind of you, but I do not wish to take up your time on such a trivial matter.”

“Not at all,” I said.  “I am happy to spend time with you and assist you in this way.  You will however need to instruct me as to what form this assistance should take.  I understand you are supposed to do as much as possible by yourself.”

“You could do worse than watch Nurse Griffiths, who is currently assisting Captain Williams, to get an idea of your responsibilities.”

I looked across the ward to see a capable nurse, who appeared to be helping three patients to dress at the same time.  One seemed to have the ability but needed direction for each item, “Stockings now, Lieutenant, one on each foot,” whilst she gave most of her attention to another soldier who had lost an arm.  Captain Williams, like Hopkins, was blind, but dressing himself slowly, albeit with a certain amount of encouragement.  “That’s a good start, Captain, but your clean vest is on back to front, take your arms out and swivel it round and you’ll be fine.”

It was easier to help Hopkins to dress than I had expected.  I probably gave him more assistance than I was supposed to, but no-one seemed to mind and I was left with the impression that so long as Hopkins managed to do a little more himself each day everyone would be happy.  When he was ready I suggested we take another walk, and he readily agreed.

Once more we made our way to the bench and I was pleased to note Hopkins walked with slightly more confidence.  He was still forced to rely on my arm, but this time I did not feel as though I were supporting him, but rather merely guiding him.

“I imagine you wish to know how I was injured,” Hopkins began.

I could sense he was somewhat reluctant to talk about the circumstances, so replied, “Only if you wish to do so.  Otherwise, I am happy to talk about something else, or even sit here and enjoy the sunshine.”

There was a pause, and then Hopkins said, “It is pleasant out here.  It’s so nice to be somewhere quiet again.”  We both sat still for a few minutes and then Hopkins laughed and it was a joy to hear him laugh as he used to.  “Except for the birds, the cows, the sheep and Sister Green telling a poor nurse off for some misdemeanour.”

I laughed with him, before adding, “And if I don’t want Sister Green telling me off as well, we’d better head back to your ward.”


	3. Revelations

The next few days continued with the same routine.  I spoke with those patients who it was thought might benefit from my counsel, both previous and new ones, with varying degrees of success.  There were days when I felt my efforts were fruitless, but Matron, who I met quite frequently, reminded me if I made a difference to one man then it was worthwhile.

I met with Hopkins, who was making rapid progress with washing and dressing himself in the mornings.  I had a sense he did not really need me, but seemed reassured by my presence.  However, he had not, as yet, been prepared to let me remove the bandages from round his eyes.

In the afternoon I met with Holmes, who by now expected my visit and would be ready holding his coat in anticipation of my arrival.  He no longer needed to lean on my arm, although nonetheless was forced to use a walking stick.  On one occasion it had been raining and I had wondered whether we should be walking, but to my surprise he produced an umbrella - from where I have no idea - and we continued as usual.  He had spoken a few more words, which I found encouraging, although I had not yet informed his doctor of this.  I rationalised this by telling myself I could not guarantee what, if anything, Holmes would say.  That he was taking in what I told him could not be in doubt, for I had been keeping him abreast of my times with Hopkins, and one afternoon, before I had even mentioned our friend, he asked about him by name.

I had continued my communication with Mycroft and having received a letter from him at lunchtime one day, thought I would take it with me and perhaps read some of it to Holmes.  As usual we went for our walk and then, as it was a very pleasant afternoon, I suggested we might sit on a bench for a few minutes.  I was prepared for him to refuse, for so far he had seemed ill at ease if we paused when outdoors, but he nodded.  We sat down and I took the letter from my pocket.  He looked at it and presumably recognised the writing for he gave a small smile.  I started to read, but had got no further than the second paragraph when he held out his hand.  I stopped instantly.

“Mycroft is not well,” he said.

“Oh!”  I am not sure what surprised me more, that Holmes spoke, or his deduction.

“His writing has deteriorated even more.  And his sentences lack the finesse he would ordinarily use.”

It is not a pleasant thing to see a grown man with his mouth wide open, but that, I suspect, was how I looked.

“He needs a change of scene,” Holmes continued.  Then I saw on his face the smile which had always accompanied a particularly deft deduction.  “You must write and tell him he must visit me.  That will at least give him a few hours in the country.”

“But what reason shall I give?”

“You are concerned about me.”  Again the smile.  “Which you are!”

“I will write this very afternoon,” I said.  “If I leave you a little earlier than usual I will have time to catch the post.”

He nodded and stood up.  I accompanied him back to his room.  To all outward appearances there was no difference from every other day.  As I turned to leave him he held a finger to his lips and I nodded.  I realised this had a double meaning: I was to tell no-one of the occurrence of Holmes’ speech, and he would revert to silence.

As I left the nurse said, “You’re leaving early, doctor.  Is there a problem?”

“I need to write to Mr Holmes’ brother and wish to catch the post.”

She nodded, but made no further comment.

***

As might be imagined, I found my mind somewhat pre-occupied as I began my evening ward round.  However, during the years of this current war I have perfected the ability to shut out certain concerns whilst dealing with other more immediate ones.  It was a trait of Holmes which I admired when he was in the middle of a troublesome case and would devote his mind to a concert shutting out all other thoughts.  I would have preferred not to have needed to learn it. 

Nevertheless, I continued with my patients, greeting those whom I now recognised and moving on, pausing only when they wished to speak to me.  As might be expected, many did not wish to cause a problem, but I was pleased those who did have concerns, even minor ones, were prepared to say so.  It was known I was an old soldier, which helped, for it meant I could understand some of the things they wished to tell me, without the need to go into great detail.  It also meant I could reassure those who feared they were losing their minds because they heard the voices of dead comrades that this was an entirely common experience and it would fade in time.  I did not mention that despite fading they might never disappear entirely – there was no need to add to their current distress.

Once more there were a few new patients and I spent time with each one.  It concerned me the wards were becoming rather crowded.  At my previous posting I had been used to overcrowded wards, but then we were merely assessing and sending the men on.  Here, they were supposed to be able to recover and I was not convinced an overfull ward would assist with this.  I resolved to mention the matter to some of my colleagues and see what their opinion was.

As usual, I went out for my evening walk.  I was grateful I could see no sign of Matron, for, though she might not be as perceptive as Holmes, there was little which escaped her gaze, and I was sure she would see I was unsettled.  As it turned out, she had left before me, for I caught up with her as she was looking appreciatively at a hawthorn bush which was coming into flower.

She smiled when she saw me.  “It would be good to think we were making as much progress with some of our patients as these buds are making.”

I started, for it was as if she had read my thoughts.  “Indeed,” I replied.  And then to prevent her from pursuing the idea, I mentioned the overcrowding in the ward and asked if she had any suggestions.

“I am aware of the problem,” she replied.  “There are some other rooms which could be made serviceable as wards for those who need less intense care.  I realise we do not have sufficient staff to prepare them, but it occurs to me a number of our more able-bodied patients might be able to help, if they were able to take their time over it.  In doing so it might have the additional advantage of keeping their minds occupied.”

“I can see no reason why they should not do so,” I said.  “Certainly not from a medical point of view.”

“In which case, I shall put my plans into action.”

I must have looked surprised, for I had imagined such matters would require detailed consultation, but Matron merely smiled and assured me so long as it didn’t cause any problems there would be no difficulty.

“But these rooms are further from the main wards,” I said.  “Sister Green won’t be happy.”

“Sister Green will merely send whichever nurse has annoyed her most that day to work there.  And she herself has been complaining that the lack of space in the wards is preventing the nurses from working as they should.”

We walked back together, amicably discussing some of the practicalities involved.  As we went our separate ways Matron smiled at me and said, “I think we should call them Hawthorn Wards, as a sign we are beginning to flower.”  I had a feeling she was thinking of more than just the expansion of suitable bed space.

***

The following morning when I reached his ward I found Hopkins partially dressed, but struggling with his shirt buttons.  I tried to assist him, but he seemed to be in a hurry and my attempts only served to make things worse.

In the end Nurse Griffiths came over.  “Captain Hopkins, this is not getting you anywhere.  I shall undo your buttons and set your hands at the top, so you can begin again.  Then, remember to run your hands together down the front of your shirt from button to button and you will be ready in no time.”

This time Hopkins managed without difficulty and as soon as he had finished dressing he stood up and started for the door.  He had grown in confidence over the last few days, but still relied on me when we went outside, so his behaviour somewhat surprised me. 

I caught up with him at the outside door and said quietly, “Do you wish to take my arm?”

He did so, and I noticed he was trembling slightly.  I became more alarmed at this, but tried not to let him sense anything.  We made our way to our customary bench where we sat down.

“Is there a problem, Hopkins?” I asked gently.

“I thought I would take off the bandages from over my eyes this morning,” he replied.  “But it’s taken so long to get here, I’m not sure I can go through with it any longer.”

I now understood the urgency of his actions; he had clearly been building up to this step all morning.  “How would it be if I were to remove the bandages whilst we sit here and then replace them before you return to the ward?” I said.  “That way you can get used to the sensation of being without them, but not have to do anything.  You might even wish to tell me a little about how your injury was sustained.”

As I said this I saw his shoulders relax and some of the tension leave his body.

“Yes.  Yes, please,” he said.

I untied the bandages and sat down beside him.  He put out his hand and I guided it to grip on my arm.  His breathing quickened and he gripped tightly.

“I can’t see!” he exclaimed.  He started to stand, but with my other hand I pressed firmly on his leg and he resumed his seat.

He sighed.  “It’s no good.  I know I can’t see and yet every time the bandages are removed I struggle to do so.”

“There are those who say they can still feel a limb, despite it having been amputated,” I said.  “I imagine this is a similar feeling.”

“I needed to see.  After the explosion I had to find my men.  And I couldn’t see them to help them.”  He stopped and began to sob.

I waited quietly.  As a nation we are renowned for our stiff upper lip.  I have seen enough in my life to know there is a place for it, and a time when it is not appropriate.  I said nothing, not because Hopkins’ display of emotion was an embarrassment, these past few years too many men have wept before me for that to be the case, but because there were no words to be said.  How can you comfort a man who has been unable to do the one thing above all else he wished to do – care for his men?  One might as well seek to comfort a mother who has lost a child she has devotedly nursed.

So I waited.

The tears ceased and Hopkins said, “I do apologise, Watson, for this unseemly behaviour.”  He swallowed hard.

Before he could continue I replied, “It is said shedding tears can be healing.  As a doctor, I am not going to reject any means of helping my patients to recover.”

Hopkins gave a small smile and we said no more.  Words were not needed, for there was an understanding between us which would always remain.

We sat in silence for a while longer before Hopkins said, “We had little warning.  We took cover as best we could, but thinking about it since, there was nothing we could have done, for it was almost a direct hit.  There was an explosion and as soon as I could after it, I stood up again in order to take charge of my men and see how many had been injured.  But I couldn’t see.”  He swallowed and continued.  “I shook my head, thinking this might help, but it made no difference.  I find it hard to work out what happened next.  I remember hearing shouts and cries.  I sought to take charge, but I’m not sure I was making sense.”

“That could be the effect of a blow to the head.”

Hopkins nodded.  “I remember one of my sergeants calling out ‘Come this way, Captain.  You need to come with us.’  I must have looked confused, because Pt Stevenson said, ‘Take my hand, sir.’  He took my hand and led me.”  Hopkins stopped, reliving the events.  “A boy, no more than eighteen years old.  He was so kind.  He must have been terrified, yet he took good care of me.”

I watched the emotions play over Hopkins’ face.  I wondered whether he would succumb to grief again, but instead he gave another small smile.  “I was very proud of my men that day and made sure when I made my report to commend them for their bravery and their competence.  There is really nothing more to tell.  I am sure you can fill in the journey back from the Front, you must have heard similar tales often enough.” 

He sighed.  “And now I feel quite tired.  I had hoped to cease wearing the bandages, but you were right, I think it would be better if they were replaced.”

“You have made a good start,” I said.  “In the same way you are making progress with your daily tasks, like dressing and washing, I believe you will find you can manage for longer without the bandages as you move on.”

We walked back to the ward together.  Although still bandaged, Hopkins seemed more confident, which I was pleased to see.  As I left him, he said, “Thank you, doctor.  Your support has been invaluable.”

I squeezed his arm in acknowledgement and left him in Nurse Griffiths’ capable hands.

Being with Hopkins had made me temporarily forget my thoughts about Holmes, but as I left the ward they returned again.  Eagerly I made my way to see if there was a letter from Mycroft, but was disappointed to learn I had received no post.

My disappointment must have shown because the orderly said, “Were you expecting something in particular, Dr Watson?”

“Not really,” I replied.  “I imagine I will hear in the next day or so.”

I was slowly making my way to dinner when the orderly caught up with me.  “Dr Watson, there is a gentleman in the entrance hall who has asked to speak with you.”

“Did he give a name?”

“No sir, he just said he needed to speak to you urgently.”

I tried to imagine who my visitor could be, but apart from someone wishing to speak to me about Captain Truman I could think of no-one.  Truman had failed to respond to all our attempts to assist him, continuing to injure himself whenever he had the opportunity.  Reluctantly I had agreed to have him sent to an asylum where he would be forcibly restrained.  I felt the responsibility heavily, but his behaviour was upsetting the other patients and I had concluded there was no alternative.

It was therefore with a heavy heart I approached the entrance hall, when to my delight I saw Mycroft Holmes standing there.

Mycroft smiled as he saw my arrival and reached out his hand.  I grasped his warmly in return and expressed my delight at seeing him.  He had aged considerably since we had last met.  The past few years have aged most of us, but I was shocked at the change I could see in Mycroft.  Holmes had been right, his brother was not well.  His face looked drawn and was an unhealthy colour.  Despite his weight, Mycroft had always carried himself well, but now he was hunched over.  His handshake, however, remained as firm as ever.

“I received your letter,” he said, “and determined to come down immediately.  I trust this is not inconvenient to you.”

“Of course not, dear fellow,” I said.  “And your brother will be delighted to see you.”

He nodded.  “From your letters I believe it must be time for you to have lunch.  Please do not let me detain you further.  I will go and see Sherlock now, and then perhaps you would be good enough to join us at your usual time.”

I went to dinner with a much lighter heart than I had earlier anticipated.  I had not expected Mycroft to respond immediately to my request for his visit, and was delighted to see him.  If nothing more it would give me an opportunity to share my concern for Holmes with someone.  In addition I was delighted with the step Hopkins had taken that morning, one which I was looking forward to building on in the coming days.

As might be imagined I found it hard to wait for my usual visiting time, and indeed was so distracted one of the other doctors asked if I was all right.  I assured him it was because I had received some unexpected news that morning, but added it was of a positive nature.  This was, indeed, the case, although the news had not come by post as I suspect the doctor imagined.

As I walked down the corridor to see Holmes I was greeted as usual by the nurse who said, “I am sure you are aware, Dr Watson, Mr Holmes’ brother has come to visit him.”  She hesitated, so I asked her if there was a problem.

“It’s just, sir,” she paused, clearly wondering whether she should continue, so I smiled at her in encouragement, “When I first saw the other Mr Holmes I thought he was a patient.  Could you, I don’t know …”  She dried up completely.

“I met Mr Mycroft Holmes briefly earlier, and I did notice his appearance.  I will see if there is anything I am able to do for him.”

“Oh, thank you, doctor.”

I was heartened once more by the level of care and concern of the nurses; each one of whom, even the dreaded Sister Green, did their utmost in what, at times, was a very difficult situation. 

I knocked on the door to Holmes’ room, which was opened instantly by Holmes himself.  Both he and his brother were ready to go for our walk, so we left immediately.  Our usual custom was for me to begin by telling Holmes about my day.  I wondered whether this would be appropriate in the circumstances, but in view of the news I wished to share I decided to go ahead and accordingly related how we had removed Hopkins’ bandages.

In response, Holmes croaked “Excellent.”  I admit to being slightly disappointed at his response, having hoped, in view of our conversation the previous day, he would have said more.  Nevertheless his demeanour showed his pleasure at the news, and Mycroft too expressed his delight at Hopkins’ progress.

We sat on the same bench as the previous day, and Mycroft began, “You are aware that, for the first time in many months, my brother held a conversation with you.  Extraordinary circumstances, namely his concern for my health, prompted this.  He and I have communicated today.  On his part less by words than I, but you will appreciate we have always been able to infer accurately various matters without the need for conventional words.”

I nodded.  That Holmes and his brother did not need the spoken word to understand each other came as no surprise.

“My brother has told me the events of his year abroad taught him to guard his words, so when trauma came he stopped speaking entirely.  The effects of the trauma have considerably lessened, and he attributes that to you in greater part, but the fear which remains in his brain still prevents him from speaking.  This fear can and will be overcome by other emotions, but as you know, Sherlock is not given to emotions, so this will not happen as quickly for him as for others.”

I nodded again, for it made perfect sense to me.

“So, since Sherlock’s silence does not of itself present a long term risk to health, I have proposed a solution, with which my brother is in full agreement.”

Mycroft paused, and I waited patiently for him to continue.

“As I told you in my original correspondence, I have been searching for a suitable property which I could purchase for Sherlock and I to live in.  I have now found one, in the nearby village.  It is quite possible you have already seen it during the evening walks you have told me about.  I have no particular wish to retire to the countryside, preferring to remain in the city, but would willingly do so for my brother’s sake.  However, there is a much better solution.  The house would be the ideal location for you and you could move in as soon as you wished.  Whilst this war has led to a general shortage of household servants, I am confident you could find someone, maybe a widow, who would be happy to work for a couple of hours a day.  Then, once you were established and of the opinion he would be safe, Sherlock could move in with you.”

My heart leapt at the idea, for this would not only provide me with my own accommodation, which would be preferable to one small room, but would give me a home after the war.  But then it dropped as quickly, for I doubted I would have sufficient funds to share in the purchase.

“Thank you, Mycroft,” I said.  “It is a wonderful idea, but I am afraid my savings would not stretch to the shared purchase of such a property.”

Mycroft smiled.  “Ah no, Doctor, we would not expect you to contribute to the purchase.  Sherlock and I have a trust which was set up to provide funds for us when we had families.  We have neither of us had need to touch the fund and it will therefore be quite sufficient for purchase of the property.  In addition, we shall both ensure our wills state should we predecease you, you will have the right to remain in the property for the rest of your life.  The only financial expectation we would have is that you pay your share of the household expenses.”

I took a deep breath.  It was an offer I would very much like to accept, but it seemed almost too generous for me to do so. 

Holmes looked at me and smiled.  It was the first real smile I had seen him give since I had met him again.  It was so clearly what he wanted I could not refuse.

“In which case,” I said, “I shall be delighted to accept.”

“Good,” Mycroft too smiled and I could see the relief in his eyes.  I wondered again how ill he was; I could not tell whether his concern for his brother was making him ill, or whether an illness was causing greater concern regarding suitable provision of care.  “If you were able to arrange to have an hour free tomorrow morning I could show you round the property and we could make the preliminary arrangements.  I shall be staying in the village tonight, and enjoying a few hours of country air.”

Holmes winked at me behind Mycroft’s back, but whatever the state of his health, Mycroft remained as sharp as ever.  “And yes, Sherlock, I am fully aware of your intention to get me into the country.”  He looked at his watch.  “I believe, Doctor, it is about time for you to commence your afternoon ward rounds.  I will undertake to return my brother safely to his room and will look forward to seeing you again tomorrow morning.”

I shook hands with Mycroft and Holmes too grasped my hand warmly before I headed back indoors, my mind once more pre-occupied, although very much encouraged by the events of the day.


	4. Our New Home

The house was ideal for our needs.  It had four reasonable-sized rooms downstairs including a kitchen, and at some point a scullery and bathroom had been added onto the back.  Upstairs there were another four rooms, plus two small rooms in the attic which originally would have housed the servants.  It was with some delight Mycroft showed me round, indicating there were enough bedrooms one could be kept available for him to visit.

A few items of furniture had been left in the house, presumably no longer required by the previous occupants.  Mycroft told me the family had inherited a property in the country, so I assumed the furniture was not sufficiently fashionable for their current needs.  However, it was still perfectly serviceable and neither Holmes nor I required the latest fashions.  In addition, Mycroft suggested he could purchase some of the items which were being cleared out of the rooms being prepared for the additional wards.

My one concern in bringing Holmes to the house would be leaving him for a significant part of each day.  I did not think the solitude would bother him, and I certainly did not believe he would harm himself, but he seemed very vulnerable to me.  When I expressed my concern to Mycroft he agreed with my assessment.  He then suggested one of the downstairs rooms could be converted into a bed sitting room for a companion who could be engaged to undertake some of the domestic chores as well as provide a further presence in the house.  It would be up to me to find a suitable person.

We walked back to the nursing home together.  Mycroft said he would acquaint his brother with the progress which had been made and enquired when I thought I would be able to move in.  My own possessions were so few I could have packed and moved that day, and I was confident I could manage for myself in the house, since I would continue to take most of my meals at work.  In fact, the only thing which prevented my moving immediately was the absence of bed linen, plus the comments my rather unseemly haste in leaving would provoke.

There was a draper’s shop in the town, which stocked a limited supply of sheets and bedding.  We agreed I would move in once I had purchased sufficient for Holmes and myself, and as soon as I found someone who could act as Holmes’ companion I would begin the process of arranging for him to move too.  I had expected Mycroft to wish to be involved in these arrangements, but he assured me he was confident in my care for his brother.

Once back at the hospital I went for lunch, leaving Mycroft to meet with Sherlock.  Shortly after I had eaten, one of the nurses approached me with a request from Matron to visit Hopkins.  I was surprised, because he had known I was not coming that morning and had been quite happy about it.  Nevertheless, I went to see him, to find him lying on his side, his face towards his pillow, instead of sitting up in his bed.

I approached him and said, “Hopkins, it’s Dr Watson.  I understand there may be a problem.”

He did not turn towards me, but instead said, “I am sorry, doctor, I have failed you.”

“How can you have done that?”  I could not imagine what had happened in the twenty-four hours since I had last seen him that could have caused such a reverse in his demeanour.

“I removed my bandages this morning, and Sister Green came and put them back on.  She said I was not to remove them unless I was under medical supervision.  I had thought I was making progress.”

“You are, dear fellow, and I shall have a word with Sister Green.  I am sure we can sort this out.  And in the meantime, there is nothing to stop you removing your bandages when I am with you.”

Hopkins seemed slightly happier at this, and I went in search of Sister Green.  I found her examining the stock of clean linen.

“I understand from Captain Hopkins you have forbidden him from removing his bandages without supervision,” I began.  “This seems rather harsh.”

She looked at me.  “And did Captain Hopkins also tell you he had started yelling?”

“No, he didn’t mention it.”

She sighed.  “He may well not have realised what he was doing.  Be that as it may, I will not have my patients yelling in the ward, and accordingly I replaced the bandages, whereupon he became quiet.”

“I understand.  The action must have triggered past events.”

“My patients are not here to relive the past, but to get better.”

I saw little point in explaining for many it would require an acceptance of the past before they were able to make a proper recovery.  At the same time I could understand why she had acted as she did.  It would not be the first time one man yelling had set others off and it would be better if this could be avoided.

“In which case,” I said, “I shall explain the situation to him.”

“That is for you to decide, doctor,” Sister Green answered.  “However, I would prefer it if you waited until tomorrow.  The patients are supposed to be having their afternoon rest and I would rather they were not disturbed.”

“As you wish, Sister.”

I was not entirely satisfied, but I have learnt to pick my battles with nursing staff.  At least I knew Hopkins would come to no harm under Sister Green’s regime, and I could take my time helping him the following morning.  Accordingly I set off to see Holmes.

When I arrived at Holmes’ room, I discovered Mycroft had not long left.  Holmes seemed tired and we agree we would forego our usual walk.  He stretched out on his bed and indicated he would be happy to hear from me about the house and my plans.  I was sure Mycroft had already provided this information, but nevertheless did as requested.  After a while Holmes fell asleep, and I was pleased to note he seemed peaceful.  It was as if some of the internal burden he was carrying had been lifted.

***

I was not sure of how Matron would react to my moving out of the hospital.  It felt to me a little as if I was deserting her by leaving.  I had therefore hoped to avoid her when I took my evening walk and had deliberately planned to go in a different direction.

However, it appeared she had been waiting for me, for she joined me almost as soon as I had left the building.

“I understand you will be moving into a house in town,” she began.

“Yes,” I replied.  “I have been made an offer I do not feel I can refuse.”

“Indeed.  You would be very foolish to turn down such an offer.  I shall, however, miss our conversations.”

“I too will be sorry not to continue with them.  I have enjoyed our evening walks.”

“In which case, I was wondering if I might be permitted to ask a favour of you?”

“Of course, Matron.”

“I imagine you will be leaving to go home about this time of an evening.  Would it be possible for me to accompany you part of the way home?”

“I would be delighted if you were to do so.”

“Thank you, doctor.  You are most kind.”

In truth, it was not an act of kindness on my part.  I had not exaggerated in my delight at the prospect of continuing our relationship.  There was no romance involved, but simply the shared experience of two colleagues who both understood the joys and heartaches found in the daily work.  Whether it was seeing the despair on the face of a young man who learns the surgeons have been unable to save his arm, or the happiness of another when he reads in a letter he has become a father; however hardened we might like to think we have become, something still penetrates that armour.

***

The following morning I was hurrying between patients when Sister Green stopped me.  I was not best pleased, for although she had not prevented me from spending time just talking to patients she had made it clear she did not see there was much to be gained from so doing.  I thought perhaps following Hopkins’ episode the previous day she had decided to make her position known.

“I understand you are looking for a companion for Mr Holmes,” she began.

“Yes, that’s correct,” I replied, surprised at the direction of her statement.

“I was wondering whether you might consider Lt Warren.  He is about to be discharged, but is not yet well enough to return to sea.  It has been recommended he spend a couple of months in the country rebuilding his strength, but his family are unable to assist him in finding somewhere to stay.”

I had met Lt Warren, who was a quiet young man.  He had been one of the few survivors when his ship had been torpedoed.  I was dubious whether he would ever be well enough to go back to sea, for any form of stress tended to leave him breathless, but there was nothing more which could be done for him medically, and with the pressure on beds it was not surprising he was being discharged.

“I will talk with him after lunch, and if I think it is a possibility I will introduce him to Holmes,” I replied.

“Thank you, doctor.”  With that Sister Green turned on her heel and departed.

I finished seeing the patients on my list and went to see Hopkins.  I was not surprised he was almost dressed.  From the set of his shoulders I could see he was determined to prove he could do things, despite being forbidden to remove the bandages from his eyes.  His coat was not buttoned correctly and I wondered whether I should let him know, but a shake of the head from Nurse Griffiths persuaded me not to.  I waited whilst Hopkins bent down to tie his shoelaces.  He managed the first, but, for whatever reason, had difficulty with the second. 

Nurse Griffiths came over.  “Just for once I shall do your shoelace for you, Captain Hopkins.  It’s far too nice a day for you to miss a second of it.”

He looked as if he was going to object, but she had completed the task before he had the chance to say something.  As we departed she winked at me.

“Give her a couple of years,” I remarked as I opened the outside door, “and the newly promoted Sister Griffiths will be giving Sister Green a run for her money.”

I was relieved when Hopkins laughed.  “Indeed!”

We made our way to our usual seat.  I asked Hopkins if he wished to remove his bandages himself.  He hesitated, but I reassured him I would be supervising, so there was no cause for alarm.  He took the bandages off and then rather inexpertly rolled them up.  The end result wouldn’t have been up to the standard of the nurses, but did show the progress he was making in simple tasks.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“A little nervous,” he replied, “but I’m all right.  Why do you ask?”

Gently I explained to him what Sister Green had told me.  He seemed surprised, but then he nodded and said, “I wasn’t aware.  I do remember being back on the battlefield and in which case it is quite possible I was yelling for my men.  I shall have to apologise to Sister Green.”

He lapsed into silence and turned his head away from me.

“I shouldn’t worry about apologising to Sister Green,” I said.  “Not unless you intend to apologise for not lying to attention and not going to sleep on the dot of eight o’clock.”

He gave a small smile, but quickly grew serious again.  “It’s not just that, doctor.  How can I hope to improve if I cannot remove the bandages except under strict supervision?”

“Do you trust me as both your doctor and your friend?”

The smile didn’t disappear this time.  “I have done so for many years.”

“Then, as a doctor, I shall tell you I have every confidence in you making slow but steady progress.  And as your friend I shall remind you not to expect too much too soon.”

“Thank you!”

“Now, would you like to try walking back to the ward without the bandages?  If you hold my arm I believe it will give you more confidence.”

We walked back together and I was just settling Hopkins in his bed when Nurse Griffiths approached.

“I was thinking Captain Hopkins could spend some time without his bandages today,” I said.

“Of course,” she replied.  “I can replace them just before dinner.”  She considered the rolled bandages.  “And in the meantime, Captain, you could practice rolling your bandages neatly.  Then, following rest hour I can give you a bag of our bandages to roll, which will help you practise your dexterity in a profitable manner.”

Nurse Griffiths bustled off and Hopkins muttered to me, “You’re right, doctor.  Sister Green is definitely going to have competition.”

***

As promised I met Lt Warren after lunch.  At first he seemed unenthusiastic at the opportunity, but after I had talked with him for a few minutes I realised it was not lack of enthusiasm, but a concern he would be unable to fulfil the role.  I reassured him his principal task would be to provide  companionship for Holmes and if possible do one or two chores around the house.  This seemed to encourage him and he grew more positive.  I was not entirely convinced, but said I would speak to Holmes and see if he would like them to meet.

At my usual hour I made my way to Holmes’ room and we went out for a walk.  I told him about my conversation with Matron the previous evening, as well as Hopkins’ continued progress.  I included our thoughts on the future Sister Griffiths and was pleased when I heard Holmes’ chuckle.  Then I mentioned Lt Warren.  I was not sure what Holmes’ reaction would be, knowing he was still wary of people he had not met.

He considered the idea for a moment, then said, “If you could bring him to me, I could wait for you here in the garden.”

I found Warren, who seemed slightly reluctant to come with me.  This increased my doubts as to his suitability, but having told Holmes we would be joining him, I did not want to renege on my word.

We saw Holmes sitting on a bench looking intently into one of the bushes.  I wondered whether the thought of meeting someone new had caused something of his paranoia to return.  I remained silent, noting Warren in his turn had started to look at the bush.

“How lovely to see a goldfinch,” Warren said.  “And is there a second on the far side of the bush?”

“I believe there is,” Holmes replied.  “Do you know much about birds?”

“I’ve always enjoyed bird watching,” Warren said.  “I used to do a lot before the war, and when I was on leave I spent as much time as I could on it.  I haven’t been able to do much lately though.”

“I would like to know more about birds.  Perhaps we could undertake bird watching trips.”

“I would be delighted to do so, sir.”

I smiled and resolved to write to Mycroft that evening, to let him know the right man to be Holmes’ companion had been found.  Having mentally written a list of the attributes I had been looking for, I should have known Holmes would tear up the list.

***

Our original plan had been that once I had moved into the house, I would install a suitable companion, after which Holmes would be able to move in.  Events however overtook us.

I had arranged to take a morning off during which Warren would help me move my few belongings and together we could begin to set up the house.  However, when Warren knocked on my door that morning he was holding his own kitbag.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but Sister Green said since my new billeting had been arranged I should move at once, as my bed was needed.”

I was annoyed, for I had hoped for a few days by myself to gather my thoughts and ensure the house was ready for further occupants.  However there was no point taking my anger out on Warren.

“Very well,” I said, “but I shall ensure you are able to continue taking meals here for the next few days.  I haven’t had time to find anyone who can cook for us.”

“Thank you, sir.”

We made good progress that morning and walked back to the home together, discussing the things which were still left to do.  I outlined to Warren my priorities and he happily agreed to begin work on them the following morning.

After dinner I had arranged to see Hopkins, since I felt it important to maintain our routine following his recent setback.  Warren was to continue getting to know Holmes and I would join them both later in the afternoon.

However, Hopkins and I had only just taken our seats on the bench when Warren appeared looking flustered.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but when I arrived at Mr Holmes’ room he was already packed and ready to leave.”

“The insufferable man,” I replied.  “What did you say to him?”

“I’m afraid I was silent for a minute, I was so surprised, and then I said I would have to see you to get the key.”

“I doubt he believed that, but it was as good an excuse as any.  He’d better have my room for the moment, since we only have two beds.  I suppose it was too much to hope he would wait patiently.”  I have to admit to a degree of disappointment; my new bed was very comfortable and I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep in it.

“Oh no, sir.  Unless Mr Holmes objects he can use my bed.  I can make up something in the dining room for my own use.”

“If you’re sure about that, Warren, then I shall gratefully accept your offer.  In which case it would probably be best if you start as soon as possible.  I am not sure how tiring Holmes will find the journey.”

Warren glanced at the sky.  “We can stop on the way if necessary.  The weather is ideal for a walk this afternoon.”

It occurred to me Warren, too, might find the walk tiring, since I was sure he would insist of carrying Holmes’ case, so I added, “And that goes for you too.  Don’t go overtiring yourself.  I have no wish to incur Sister Green’s wrath by bringing you back to occupy one of her precious beds.”

The young man laughed.  “No, sir.  I’ll take it gently.”

Warren left and I turned back to Hopkins.  During our conversation he had removed his bandages, but he did not seem as happy as I would have expected.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Oh yes, yes, there’s no problem.”

“You seem a little dejected.”

“I’m sorry.  I suppose I’m just growing aware of how limited I shall be now I am blind.”

I cursed myself for my lack of tact.  Hopkins must have heard my conversation with Warren and been assailed with thoughts of a future he could no longer have.  I knew there were rehabilitation programmes, but I could imagine someone like Hopkins would find it very dispiriting to be in a group and having to learn at the pace of the slowest.  Especially with few prospects at the end.

There was, however, an alternative.  I put my hand in my pocket and jangled my keys and then said, probably sounding even less convincing than Warren had to Holmes, “Would you mind staying here on your own for five minutes, dear fellow?  I’ve just realised I forgot to give Warren the key.”

It was nearly ten minutes before I returned, and when I did I sat down heavily on the bench next to Hopkins and took a moment to get my breath.  My days of running are well passed.

Once I was able to speak without gasping I said, “I have spoken to Holmes and we would both be delighted if you were to make your home with us.  There are rooms sufficient for all of us and any necessary adjustments can be easily made.”

Hopkins went to interrupt and I lifted my hand to stop him, before realising the futility of the gesture, and said, “Hear me out first and then you can mention your concerns.  Holmes is very keen to help continue your rehabilitation and Warren will be there to assist with the more physical aspects, as well as to ensure Holmes doesn’t expect too much too soon.  And please do not mention the question of finance, for you will be receiving a war pension, which will be quite sufficient to provide for your share of the housekeeping.”

Hopkins stayed quiet, and I started to worry I had overstepped the mark.  Finally he said, “I – I don’t know what to say.  I would be honoured if I could live with you and Mr Holmes, but I do not wish to be a burden on you.  I don’t want to take advantage of your friendship.”

“You will not be a burden, and if you believe anyone can take advantage of Holmes, you clearly have not learnt anything about him in the years you have known us.  I do, however, have one favour to ask you.  Please do not mention anything to Sister Green.  This is not because we may retract the offer, but if she hears you have somewhere to stay she will have a nurse packing your bag before I have finished my supper, and as you will have gathered we only have two beds.”

Hopkins laughed and promised not to breathe a word.  He then began inexpertly retying his bandages.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.  “I thought you were happy walking back without the bandages.”

“I am usually,” he replied.  “But today, my mind feels confused.  I just feel I would be more confident if I were wearing them.  Maybe that’s a sign I shouldn’t be looking to move in with you.”

“I’m no psychiatrist,” I said.  “But I do know if we ask our brains to do too many things at once they have a habit of rebelling.  So let yours enjoy the thoughts of the future, without trying to cope with a present where it’s still half convinced you should be able to see if the bandages are taken off.”

“Thank you, doctor, you understand so well.”

We walked back to the ward, where, to my horror, Sister Green was standing by the doorway.  She gave us a long hard look as we entered and I could see she was about to make a comment on the bandages.

Fortunately, Nurse Griffiths came up and said cheerfully, “Captain Hopkins, you do look tired.  If you come and lie down now, you’ll have time for a nap before tea.”

As she led Hopkins back to his bed, she turned her head, looked at me and, having ensured Sister Green was not looking in her direction, winked at me again.

***

Once I had finished my evening ward round, I decided I would make my way straight to the house, rather than staying to supper.  I wanted to be satisfy myself Holmes and Warren were coping and had sufficient to eat.  Earlier I had ensured there would be food for Warren and myself for breakfast, so I knew if all else failed they could eat that and we would just have to replenish the larder the following morning.

When I reached the main door I was greeted by Matron, who held out a basket for me.  “I imagine you won’t have much in the way of provisions,” she said, “so I thought it best to arrange something for you.”

I was touched by her consideration and accepted the basket gratefully.  “That is very kind of you,” I replied and then added, “I wonder, if you were able to take a slightly longer break, would you care to join us for supper tonight?”

“Oh thank you, doctor, I’d be delighted.”

She took the basket back from me and we walked down the road together.

 


	5. Two Months On

We quickly adapted to our new living arrangements.  Despite my initial reservations at Holmes moving into the house so soon, it proved to be beneficial.  The original plan had been for me to obtain the necessary furniture for the house, as well as engaging a suitable housekeeper, with Warren’s assistance.  However, we quickly realised I did not have time for such an enterprise and whilst Warren was happy to buy food and minor articles, it was not his responsibility to equip a house.

But with Holmes in the house, he could oversee the purchase of furniture and generally begin the process of making a home.  If I was not entirely convinced by the choice of some of the curtains, I refrained from comment.  It was not as if I had much time to spend looking at them.

Equally, the housekeeper was not someone I would have initially considered, but Holmes was happy with her, and perhaps more importantly, she was happy with Holmes.

And so, each day, I would return home, looking forward to seeing what innovations had taken place since I had left shortly after breakfast.  Holmes’ bedroom was swiftly organised, and then a room was set up for Mycroft, and an invitation sent to him requesting his presence to approve it.  Another day I returned to find Warren had moved out of his downstairs bed sitting room and into the two small rooms in the attic.  I tried to mention my concern, but I was informed he was the same distance from Holmes’ bedroom, and the light was better there.

As it turned out, it was as well he had moved, for two days later, as I was about to walk to the hospital there was a knock on the door.  I opened it, to see the farmer’s lad who worked part time driving a cart for the hospital.  In one hand he was holding a suitcase and the other he held Hopkins’ arm.

I stood at the door, completely speechless for a moment, before saying “Come in!”  The lad helped Hopkins through the doorway and then Warren appeared and took him into the sitting room. 

I was mentally composing a furious complaint to be delivered to Sister Green, when Holmes joined us.

“Splendid,” he said, “You’re here.  We’ve got your bedroom set up ready for you.  I’ve been giving plenty of thought as to the best layout for it.  As soon as you’re ready I’ll explain it all to you.”

At that point Mrs Latimer, the new housekeeper, arrived.  “One thing at a time, Mr Holmes.  Give the captain a chance to get a feel for his new surroundings.  And then he can take it one step at a time.  And it will need to be just that, one step and then another.”

I decided I had had enough of the madhouse, so mentally apologising to Sister Green for wrongly accusing her, I made my escape.

***

We had settled into a satisfactory daily routine when Warren was summoned for a medical examination prior to his return to the navy.  He had seemed much recovered, and although I would be sorry to see him go, it was not unexpected.  I was therefore surprised when he met me late in the afternoon, his face downcast.

“They’ve said I am no longer fit for active service,” he told me.  “My lungs are still damaged following the explosion.”

“My dear chap,” I said, “I am very sorry to hear it.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“For the moment we would all be delighted if you were to continue your duties with us.  At the very least it will give you time to look around for some other suitable employment.”

“I hardly think my presence is required any longer, but I am grateful for your offer and will accept it for the moment.”

We walked back to the house together in silence.  I could understand Warren’s position.  He was a young man, keen to offer his services to his country, or if not the country, then to others who were in need of assistance.  He had certainly played a major part in establishing our household and the independence both Holmes and Hopkins were now displaying was testament to his abilities.

When we arrived back we were greeted by Mrs Latimer, who looked annoyed.  “Mr Warren,” she said, “could you assist Captain Hopkins to wash.  He is rather muddy and I do not think it is my position to help him bathe.”

Warren hurried to help Hopkins, while Mrs Latimer continued to glare at me.

“Is Holmes all right?” I asked.

“He is asleep,” she replied.

“What happened?”

“Mr Holmes decided he would take the captain for a walk by himself.  I am not sure exactly what happened while they were out, but clearly something alarmed Mr Holmes.  There were a number of people coming down the track and one of them must have said something which caused him to veer off the path and head towards the bushes.  Captain Hopkins of course tried to follow him and slipped into one of the ditches.  Fortunately I had told our Albert and Henry to keep an eye on them, and Henry came running back for help, having left Albert to continue to watch.”

I nodded.  Albert and Henry were of the same age as the Irregulars had been, and as knowledgeable about the countryside as the Irregulars were about the city.

“When Henry told me what had happened, I got Jackson, the postman, to go back with him and bring the two back here.  You owe Jackson a pint or two.”

“A debt which will be paid.  How was Holmes on his return?”

“Silent.  But that has happened before.  With the captain’s help we got him to his room, and removed his outer garments.  It is a good job Mr Warren has taught the captain how to manage the stairs.”

I cursed myself.  I had assumed Holmes had more or less recovered, because he talked freely with me, and seemed relaxed with both Hopkins and Warren.  But I had not seen him during the daytime, when he was dealing with new events and when he must clearly still be struggling.  I had assumed I would be informed if he had grown worse, and there was no indication he had, but it appeared I had also assumed too fast a rate of recovery.

“And how is Captain Hopkins?” I asked.

“A little scratched, a little muddy, a little frustrated at not being able to fully take care of himself.”

I suspected there had been an argument as to whether Hopkins could bathe before we returned. 

“Dr Watson,” Mrs Latimer continued, “when Mr Warren leaves you will need to engage a replacement immediately.”

“Warren will not be leaving for the moment,” I said. “He has been told he is unfit for active service.”

“Of course he is; anyone who has watched him can see that.  In which case, I had better put the kettle on and make the tea.”

I was mystified as to the connection between the two sentences.  However, it appeared that with Warren staying Mrs Latimer’s world had been put to rights again.

A few minutes later I heard Mrs Latimer saying, “I hear you’re not leaving us after all.  Thank goodness for that, I really don’t know how we’d have managed without you.”

Later, once Holmes was awake we sat down to supper together.  Warren looked considerably happier than he had done when he learnt he could not return to sea, and I had the impression it was not just Mrs Latimer who had reaffirmed how vital his contribution was to the household.

For the last two or three weeks we had been so busy at the hospital I had not made it back home until late, so I decided to take the opportunity of joining the others at supper and observe how much progress had in truth been made.

Hopkins seemed to be coping admirably with the meal, even to the point of buttering his own bread.  But as I watched I saw Warren place the butter dish very precisely so Hopkins could find it, and Holmes unobtrusively guided Hopkins’ hand as he came to spread the butter on his bread.  So it was true Hopkins was coping, but only with the assistance of the two who sat either side of him.

They began to discuss the afternoon walk, and I was instantly alert to see Holmes’ response.  However, as soon as he seemed to be retreating inside himself, Warren skilfully directed the conversation to whether they had heard the thrush on the path. 

When I went to bed that night I was left with much to reflect upon.  I contemplated writing to Mycroft to admit my shortcomings with regard to my care of his brother, but he was due to visit in a couple of days’ time, so I decided to wait until I saw him.

I had already arranged to finish work at lunchtime on the day Mycroft was coming to visit.  Accordingly, I hurried home as soon as I could, to find the table laid for dinner and Mrs Latimer ready to start serving.  I therefore made haste to join the others.

After we had eaten Holmes proposed going for a walk and invited his brother to join them.  Unsurprisingly Mycroft declined the invitation, but insisted the others continue as normal.  I, in turn, made my excuses, saying my brisk walk back from the hospital in the hot sun had been quite sufficient for me.

In truth, I was keen to make my apologies to Mycroft for my lack of care of his brother as soon as I could.

It was perhaps inevitable Mycroft would forestall me, by saying, “I understand from Sherlock you are feeling guilty because you have not monitored his progress as closely as you would have wished.  I have three things to say, after which I shall consider the matter closed.  Firstly, everyone in the house has been aware of how hard you have been working over the last few weeks.  I had arranged for your assignment here to give you some rest, but it appears not to have been the case.  Secondly, Sherlock himself has been in regular communication with me, and what he has not specifically written I have been able to infer.  And lastly, and most importantly, you have given each one of us hope, which we would not have had otherwise.”

I must have looked totally uncomprehendingly at Mycroft, for he continued, “In summation, I am delighted with the progress my brother has made, and have absolutely no complaints about all you have done for him.”

I would have said something, despite Mycroft’s kind words, but he stood up, saying he had yet to unpack his overnight bag, and would be back in a few minutes.  Accordingly, I stretched out in the armchair and closed my eyes, allowing the heavy heat of the afternoon to settle upon me. 

It was some time later I woke to the sound of voices as the walkers returned.  Mycroft had clearly joined me again, and from the way he was stretching, must have also been dozing.  Warren said he would make some tea, while Holmes made his way upstairs, followed by his brother.  Hopkins went into his own room, and I listened to the sounds as he confidently moved around in there.

Holmes had taken over the fourth bedroom on the first floor for his own use, and this must have been what he had been showing Mycroft, for as they came back down Mycroft was saying, “I have not seen a room like that since I visited you in 221B.  I always wondered how Mrs Hudson coped with it, and now I have the same fears for Mrs Latimer.”

“We have an agreement,” Holmes replied, “She does not enter the room, and I do not expect it to be cleaned.  I must have somewhere to do my experiments, and it would not be fair on Hopkins if I were to leave items in disarray downstairs.”

“Isn’t Dr Watson also entitled to space to himself?”

“He is free to use the parlour.  Hopkins prefers the dining room, for the table is bigger in there.  And there is space for the piano to go against the wall in there.”

This was the first I had heard about such an instrument, and without thinking, I said, “What piano?”

“The chapel have a new organ, so we’re buying their old piano off them,” Holmes replied.  “It will be delivered on Tuesday.  They’re going to ask the drayman to help push it when he does his next delivery.”

“Mr Holmes has suggested I learn to play,” Hopkins said, coming out of his room to join us.  “I have a reasonable ear for music and should be able to learn some simple tunes quite easily.”

“Oh!” I said.

I can’t have sounded particularly convinced, because Warren added, “We’ve been down to the chapel a couple of times and the captain has tried his hand at the piano.  It went very well.”

“Right!” was all I could manage to say.  Clearly there was considerably more going on in the house than I was aware of.

Although Mycroft had visited once before, it had only been for a quick overnight stop, which had given him just sufficient time to approve the arrangements in the house.  This time he had arranged to stay for the whole weekend.  Mrs Latimer had been asked to cook a proper Sunday lunch and Matron had been invited to join us.

Conscious that I had not been paying as much attention to events within the house as perhaps I should, I resolved to speak to Mrs Latimer, to ensure we were not taking advantage of her good nature by expecting her to cook a large meal when she had her own family to care for.

When I raised the matter with her the following morning, she merely laughed.  “I told them, when I got this job, they’d have to cope by themselves when I wasn’t there.  Our Win will have them for dinner, and Annie will either have to pull herself together to get tea or the boys’ll have to do their own.”

“As long as you are happy,” I replied.  “I am afraid I have not been around as much as I should of late.  Is there anything you feel I should be aware of?”

“Now, doctor, don’t you go blaming yourself for not being at home.  We all know how busy it is up at the hospital.  No-one expects you to be watching over us as well.  However, there is one thing you may not have been told.  It won’t be long before our Annie’s due and I may have to take a little time off.  Win will help with the birth preparations as much as she can, but with little ‘uns of her own, she can’t be there all the time.  I’d call Ethel back, but they’re right in the middle of harvest and she can’t be spared.  Mr Warren has said he can cope for a few days.”

“Of course you must take the time off.”  I paused and thought for a moment.  “And maybe, if you can spare them, you could send Henry and Albert over to give Warren a bit of a hand.  We’d pay them of course.”

“If you think they can be of use, you’re welcome to them.  And there’d be no need to pay them, I shall be glad to have them out of the way.”

I laughed and made a mental note to tell Warren to ensure they were adequately recompensed.  They were both growing lads, and I was sure we could find clothing which could easily be adapted to fit them.

Not long afterwards Matron arrived and was warmly greeted.  As we sat down to eat at the dining table, I was amused to see Holmes, Hopkins and Warren, all of whom were Matron’s former patients, sitting up a little straighter than normal.  She, in turn, complimented them on their continued progress.

Mycroft enquired how the Hawthorn Wards were doing, and Matron outlined the work which had been done and the benefit it had been to both patients and staff.  She also spoke of Sister Green’s continuing battle to ensure no beer be brought into the wards.

“Of course, it hasn’t been easy with no-one specifically in charge of the wards,” she said.  “However that will change now they’ve agreed to appoint another sister.”  She smiled.  “And the newly promoted Sister Griffiths will be taking over tomorrow.”

And so we continued over that summer.  Annie had her baby, a boy, whom she named after her husband who had died in France six weeks before his son was born.  We were invited to the baptism service.  Holmes seemed nervous and I realised it was the first social event he would attend since his return.  I reassured him there would not be many there, and that if he wished to leave everyone would understand.

Annie had asked Warren to be one of the godparents, and he stood at the front with Annie’s sister Win, together with Hopkins, who was representing Win’s husband still serving abroad.  It was a very simple service.  The vicar spoke briefly, treading a careful path between the sorrow for those who weren’t there and the joy at a new birth.

He invited the godparents to join with him in making a sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead, and I admit to shedding a tear when Win helped Hopkins to do so.

Afterwards we went back to Win’s for a small celebration tea which Mrs Latimer had arranged.  Holmes had contacted Ethel, the youngest of the Latimer sisters, a few days before and pressed some money into her hand towards the cost of the tea.  When Mrs Latimer found out, she tried to remonstrate with Holmes, but, since his instructions to Ethel had been to go immediately to buy the ingredients, there was little she could do about it.

Although it was too late to grow anything that summer, Warren began to prepare the garden reading for autumn planting.  Warren didn’t have much experience with regard to gardening, but there were plenty around who were prepared to offer advice, even if a good proportion of it was of a contradictory nature.  Holmes helped out and Hopkins was also pressed into service.  Using the different tools helped to give Hopkins greater confidence, and since the garden was somewhat overgrown, it didn’t matter which plants he dug up.  Albert and Henry continued to come, even after their mother was back with us full time, and were fully employed with fetching and carrying.

Meanwhile, I was as busy at the hospital as ever, although I made a point of ensuring I was back in time for supper a couple of evenings each week.  Sister Griffiths soon had the patients in the Hawthorn Wards under control and I found I was spending quite a proportion of my time there.

Indeed, where Sister Green believed the patients should concentrate on getting better, regardless of what they had been through, Sister Griffiths was far more understanding.  She would frequently ask me to speak to a patient who wasn’t making as much improvement as she felt would be appropriate given their circumstances.  I am not a psychiatrist, and was in no position to aid those who were suffering particularly badly from shell shock, but there were many who simply required reassurance, which I was happy to give.

Often someone would say to me, “Doc, sometimes when I close my eyes I see explosions, is this normal?”  Or “I panic if the blankets are too tight and I feel trapped,” so I would ensure there was a relaxation of the rigidity of hospital bed-making.  And the sadness of “I told my mate he would be okay when he clearly wouldn’t.  Was I wrong?”  My reply was always, “You gave him some peace, and that was all you could offer him.” 

Warren seemed to have accepted he would never fully recover his health and although happy to remain with us for the time being had begun to look around for a future career.  One evening, John Grainger, Win’s husband, who was home on leave, invited us to join him for a drink.  Holmes declined, but Warren, Hopkins and I accepted.

As we sat in the bar, a man in his thirties came in, walking with a pronounced limp.  Grainger stood up and said, “Hello, sir, can I buy you a drink?”

The man came over and Grainger introduced him as having been with his unit, before being invalided home.  The ex-soldier and Warren got on very well, and Hopkins and I left them talking as we returned home. 

About three-quarters of an hour later Warren came in.  “Can I ask your advice?” he said.

“Of course.”

“Frank Tomlinson has started teaching at the town secondary school.  He says they are looking for a science teacher from the beginning of the next term.  I was thinking I might apply.  Do you think it would be a good idea?”

“I think it would be an excellent idea.  Did Tomlinson tell you the best way to do so?”

“He said the headmaster lives next to the school and suggested I might call in on him and have an informal talk to see whether he thought it would be possible.  I was thinking I might be able to go tomorrow morning.”

I nodded.  “That sounds very sensible.  Holmes and Hopkins will be fine on their own.  And if they do want to go out Albert and Henry can go with them.  We still haven’t curbed Holmes’ instinct to dart off and look at things, forgetting Hopkins can’t follow as easily.”

Warren laughed.  “At least now it’s when he sees something he wants to take a closer look at, rather than because something’s startled him.”

“I agree it’s a great improvement.  It doesn’t stop Hopkins ending up in the brambles though.”

Warren nodded and then paused.  I could see he was thinking things through, so I said, “And it would make sense if you were to continue living here initially.  Once you’re more established I’m sure you’ll be wanting your own home, but for the moment your rooms will remain available to you.”

“But what about Mr Holmes and the captain, won’t they need more support?  Henry and Albert will be at school too.”

“I think they’ll be fine during the day.  Mrs Latimer will still be around and if we find we need a little more help at times I’m sure we can find someone in the town who will come in for a few hours.  If anything it’s the evenings and early mornings when we will still need you.”

“If you’re sure that will be all right, then I’d be delighted to stay.”

As a precaution I mentioned Warren’s plans to Mrs Latimer the following day, asking her not to say anything to anyone else until we were sure what was happening.  She agreed with me Holmes and Hopkins would no longer need someone providing full-time care and promised to let me know at once if anything changed. 

Then she said, “And, of course, doctor, when this war is finally over, you’ll be able to be with them too.”

This made me think.  The war had been going on for so long, and the stream of new patients I was seeing seemed endless, so I hadn’t even thought about what I would be doing afterwards.  One day I would be living in the house with Holmes and Hopkins and my days would be spent in quiet conversation, gentle strolls, reading and perhaps a little writing. 

I smiled at her.  “That is something I will most certainly look forward to.”


End file.
